


Painting flowers with blood

by SonataNocturne



Category: Palaye Royale (Band)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Character Death, Feels, Flowers, Hanahaki Disease, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Randomness, Sad, Triggers, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 12:19:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18446420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonataNocturne/pseuds/SonataNocturne
Summary: Remington rather took the pain and love, than no love at all.





	Painting flowers with blood

**Author's Note:**

> So. First of all- I know they are brothers. And as we have gotten over that- they aren't brothers in this fic. I tagged the relationship, even though it is one-sided. My muse is an asshole and I am blaming him for making me stay up this late and write this. I hope you guys like it. I pondered a long while should I publish this here or on my other account, but here we are.

 

  

\---------

 

It all had begun on that rainy night. Remington just didn’t know it until later. He had stepped inside the bar just thought of drinking himself numb burning in the back of his mind. A heavy veil of smoke hit his face when he entered the dark place. Glancing around he noted that the place had a tiny platform with a piano and a mic stand. The candles that lit the room made him think about the fire hazard but he pushed it aside quickly when he spotted the bartender who was pouring a drink for a younger girl. He was about to order a large glass of red wine when he realised whiskey with coke would be a better option.

 

As he sat down to a lonely corner he let his eyes scan the bar once more. Burgundy velvet curtains that drooped on the walls and the windows making sure no daylight got inside, dark mahogany chairs that sit in pairs in front of the tiny tables that were covered with a same coloured table cloth as the curtains were. It really fitted his state of mind. And he really fitted there with his black skinny jeans, combat boots and a black buttoned shirt. But the alcohol was there to numb and soon he fell to the beautiful oblivion. After a while, he had forgotten everything that mattered. Even how many he had drunk.

 

And how he wished later that he hadn’t. It was easy to say that the alcohol was the issue, but when the band started to play he was thrown into a bliss. The singer was beautiful, but it was the pianist that caught his attention. A large hat covered most of his features but Remington couldn’t ignore the playful but shy smile that spread to his lips. The candles on top of the piano barely gave him enough light to play, but it was magical. The fingers travelled over the keys so elegantly while the soft notes filled the room. The singer's dark, deep voice completed perfectly the piano, and Remington thought that maybe he was intoxicated by the music and not the whiskey.

 

But as the duo ended their act and the candles on the stage were blown out he realised that he was drunk on the alcohol and the emptiness inside him was there to stay. Swallowing hard he stared at the ice cubes in the glass that melted as fast as the buzz in his brains. No amount of alcohol would make him numb now.

 

~~~~~~~~

 

A week later he returned there. As being himself he had forgotten to even check would the duo be a regular thing or would he forever remember only that smile behind the piano, and not even connect it to a voice. But there it was. As he turned around, now with the wine glass, he saw the guy sitting alone and scrolling through his phone. Remington gasped and then gathered his courage to approach the person. And now he was thankful for the candlelight that hopefully hid his burning cheeks.

 

“Hey. Can I… sit?”

 

“Oh. Yeah. I need to get on the stage soon but sure”, the guy lifted his gaze and moved his own wine glass like it was on the way.

 

Remington sat down and he could finally take a proper look to the face. Which still was nothing because there was something inside him growing and he couldn’t comprehend it.

 

“You played here last week too. Right?”

 

“Yeah. You saw us?” the response was friendly and genuine, probably more than he ever could have given to a random stranger.

 

Running his fingers through his messy dark strands he nodded, “I was here. It was nice.”

 

“He is a great singer.”

 

“He is. But I meant you.”

 

“I… just play the piano”, the other seemed to blush a little, but Remington could have also imagined it. Maybe wishful thinking.

 

“Em”, the voice next to the stage called and the guy was startled.

 

“I need to go.”

 

“Uhm, is there a way we could meet up again? I could wait until the show is over?” Remington made his move and felt absolutely pathetic instantly.

 

“Oh. Sure”, the other shrugged and swiped the strands off of his face.

 

Remington held his breath and nodded. He would wait there. He would watch the whole show again and enjoy it and hope the other wasn’t just saying that to be nice, but actually going to meet him after.

 

When the duo ended their show and he was once again intoxicated by the feeling the guy approached him. Remington straightened his posture and smiled, at least trying to make an impression.

 

"Better than last time?"

 

"Maybe. Or it was better because it was my second time."

 

"Maybe", the guy smiled.

 

One could say that was how it started. That it was the smile that made him fall in love. They stayed until the bar closed and when Remington got back home the smile had stuck to his face too.

 

~~~~~~~~

 

But it didn't last. Why would it have? Nothing ever did in his life. Days later when they were laying on Remington's tiny bed he finally managed to get the words out.

 

"I think I love you. No... I do love you."

 

Emerson fiddled with the leather string on his necklace for a while before he answered. "Okay. What... do you want me to say?"

 

He didn't love Remington back. Not in the same way. But it was fine. It was fine for Remington because Emerson pulled him to a hug and kissed his forehead. Wordlessly telling he wasn't going to end it just because he didn't feel the same way.

 

But that night when Remington coughed up the first petal he knew that it wasn't that fine after all. Staring at the white petal of carnation while Emerson slept peacefully next to him he acknowledged that it was the beginning of the end.

 

~~~~~~~

 

Emerson tried everything. He could see how those eyes surrounded by black eyeshadow slowly started to lose their life. The vibrancy faded and the shadows appeared. The frame that had already been skinny turned to worse and the voice once so lively lost its sharpness.

 

He brought food. Remington smiled sadly, staring at the soup, knowing it wasn't food he needed. After eating it he thanked and watched as Emerson kept staring at him, like waiting for it suddenly turn him back to life.

 

"It's not food."

 

"You know I do love you. You must know that."

 

But it hurt. Every word Emerson said, trying to assure him made the flowers inside him blossom. More beautiful than ever. Because it was the wrong kind of love.

 

Emerson played for him. They sneaked into the club and he played every song he knew. Remington watched the fingers dance on the keys and the eyes that were concentrated to the songs, to the notes that swirled around them. He sat there, next to the piano, and wondered was the red on the rim of the wine glass his blood or just the wine. 

 

"You're going to be fine."

 

"Yeah."

 

Remington wasn't sure did Emerson realize he wasn't going to be or was it just him trying to convince himself that Remington wasn't actually dying. But the pain was worth it. It was worth the love. And Emerson.

 

At times, when he woke up in the middle of the night coughing up the petals and not knowing how long it would last this time, it got unbearable. Emerson rubbed his back and the worried gasps echoed in the room. He wanted to scream. Not because the other was there, but because he knew what was coming next and how much it hurt. That was the pain he couldn't take.

 

"Let me help. I love you so much."

 

A tear rolled down Remington's cheek when the word stung. Another flower in bloom and the pain shot through him. It was ripping him apart from the inside.

 

Remington tried too. In his own way. He tried to tell Emerson to stay away. Not come to see him, not make any contact. Thinking that it would help. Emerson obeyed. But he hated it. He absolutely hated that Remington thought it would be a solution to anything. But the other was sick of his words. Because he knew they weren't the ones he needed to get better.

 

"Rem. Please."

 

Staring at the white petals on his shirt Remington shook his head. Not that Emerson could have seen it. He was behind his door and Remington was sitting on the other side. He heard the soft tapping as Emerson ran his fingers on the doorframe like it was keys of a piano.

 

"I can't."

 

"I need to see you."

 

The tone in the plea made him shiver. If only it would be enough.

 

"No, you don't. You really don't", Remington mumbled, the twinge inside him making him double over. Now he was gasping for air.

 

After a while, he heard the footsteps receding in the corridor. But the pain was still there. Only the sharpness was gone. Whimpering he pulled his knees to his chest and wiped the trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. He deserved the pain. Every ounce of it. Thinking of Emerson made him smile. It made his heart sing together with the pain.

 

But he couldn’t resist longer. Next day when Emerson came back he opened the door. And he wanted to fall on his knees and scream and beg, but instead, he just stood there while the other stared at him.

 

“You look horrible.”

 

Remington raised his eyebrow. It was more than obvious. Sunken eyes that the eyeshadow just made look eerie. He was so thin that the shirt that had fitted him before looked like it was two sizes too big. Bleak and in despair. Even his skin was cold and almost like it was transparent.

 

“Sorry.”

 

And now he bit down to his lip as the other hugged him. He was in love. He was in pain. It wasn’t fair that Emerson had to see it. Feel the pain in a way too.

 

“I need to…” Emerson swallowed and Remington felt sorry that his smile had disappeared too. It had been so long he had seen that smile.

 

“I need to help you.”

 

“You can’t. You know that”, Remington whimpered, faltering.

 

“But I…” the other started but Remington shook his head and pushed him away.

 

“Please don’t.”

 

The pain was building up again and he had to lean on the wall so he wouldn’t fall down. The coughing was making his throat burn and soon he was clawing the skin as it would help. Emerson wrapped his arms around him again but he was losing it. Knees giving in he slumped on the floor, the other following him, as his sobs filled the room. The sobs that turned to raw screaming when the pain ripped through him. It was harrowing. The only thing in his mind was how long. How long would he have the delight of having Emerson’s warmth against him and the love that would never be enough?

 

And Emerson watched him scream. He watched as it slowly turned to silent tears as Remington was too tired to emit any other sound than tiny whimpers. When he saw the droplets of blood and carnation petals that were supposed to be white he closed his eyes. He couldn’t do anything and it wasn’t fair.

 

~~~~~~~

 

When Emerson woke up that night it took him quite a while to realise why. Maybe it was the pain chewing him when he knew he couldn’t do anything. Remington coughed next to him and only then he realised the other was awake. Just staring at the ceiling. Eyes hollow and awaiting.

 

“Do you see it?” the whisper was barely audible.

 

Emerson shook his head. But he did feel it. The death was like a shadow. Lingering, waiting for a chance to embrace.

 

“I wish I could hate you”, Remington said, his voice wheezy.

 

“I wish you would hate me too”, Emerson answered kissing his cheek. He wiped the crimson liquid off of Remington's lips and draw him to his arms.

 

A day passed. Then another. And another. Remington didn’t know anymore what day of the week it was. He spent his days laying on his floor and watching the sun rays dance on the walls. Because when the night fell and the shadows appeared he couldn’t separate them from each other. The death was one of them. Always there. Sometimes he just closed his eyes and listened. Waiting. Wondering would it come suddenly or would he hear it. In between the listening and watching he coughed. There were more petals. And more blood. 

 

“You…” Emerson said as he got in. Remington wasn’t sure was giving the key to him a good idea, but now even the voice made his heart bounce out from his chest.

 

“Look worse. Again. I know”, the other said thickly curling into a fetal position. He didn’t even need to look into a mirror to know what he looked like.

 

Emerson sat behind him and crossed his legs. Reaching out he trailed his fingers on the other’s neck, noticing how sweaty it was. His eyebrows knitted when Remington gasped under his touch. He only hoped it wasn’t actually his touch hurting.

 

He stayed there, like before. Looking as the other fell to restless sleep, wondering would he be there when the time would come. It might have been hours as he sat beside Remington. He didn’t know. Nor he didn’t care. And as Remington woke up wailing and then had another bout of coughing, that soon turned into a cluster he knew the time would be soon.

 

“Breathe. Please”, he grimaced grabbing the other and pulling him to his arms.

 

“Can’t”, Remington croaked gasping for air.

 

Emerson swiped the petals from his lips and rocked him on his lap. Nothing he did would make it better.

 

“I love you”, he murmured.

 

“Don’t. It hurts”, the other frowned the pain shattering him.

 

More coughing and more blood. Emerson couldn’t count the petals anymore.

 

“You… you are wilting”, he mumbled when the other choked for air and settled then finally. It was just a moment, he knew it. But he was happy to have a moment of seeing no pain in Remington's face.

 

“Like a flower”, Remington whispered, a sad smile spreading on his lips.

 

“Yeah. Because the flowers inside you are…”

 

“Tearing me apart.”

 

~~~~~~~

 

But that wasn’t the end. It could have been. Remington was still thankful for the pain. The pain was love. He was in love and the pain was a constant reminder of it.

 

Now it was raining again. He didn’t know anymore was it a day or a night. The rain pattered against the window as he leaned against the cold tiles in his bathroom. Picking up a petal from his mouth he closed his eyes. The pain wasn’t  _just_  pain anymore. It was agony. Pure, dulling agony. Burning him up, making him scream. And when he couldn't scream anymore he just stared in front of him with his empty eyes.

 

“God…” Emerson swallowed. He had followed the trail of petals and blood to the bathroom, only to find Remington shivering there.

 

“Hey”, he murmured back, his heart answering instantly to Emerson’s presence by skipping a beat. And another bout of cough shook him to the core. The blood splatters painted the tiles red, as well as the flower petals. Precious, delicate white carnation petals.

 

“Please… I can’t fucking die on my bathroom floor”, he croaked when Emerson just stood there, clothes dripping rainwater, watching him with a hand over his mouth. The tears in his eyes were burning and he had to gather his every remaining drop of courage when he helped Remington up to his feet and to his bed. The other was covered now in cold sweat. The dark hair messier than before, the old eyeshadows smudged with the salty tears.

 

“Better?”

 

“As long as you are there”, Remington noted and they both knew how horribly twisted those words were.

 

“I can’t lose you.”

 

“Em, please…” the other grimaced and trembled. More pain and he was barely there anymore.

 

“I did try everything. I truly did.”

 

He didn’t understand. But there was no understanding this.

 

Remington shook his head slowly. He loved. No matter what, he loved. While he withered away the love would stay. It would fill Emerson’s heart as a memory.

 

Emerson let him curl up when the waves of pain made him shudder. The blood was now spilling between his gritted teeth, soaking the pillow. But he smiled amongst the tears when Emerson picked up the petal from his cheek and continued to caress it.

 

"Please breathe", he whispered when the other choked for air. But only more petals and blood followed. Petals everywhere. They were on the bedsheet. On his arms. On Remington's hair and on his blood dotted face.

  

Remington didn't know was he drowning in his own blood or the flowers, but seeing Emerson's face wet with tears made him wish he could stay for a little while longer. Just to explain that it was fine. That he rather took the pain and the love, than no love at all.

 

“I love you”, Remington gasped and Emerson yelled, knowing those were the last words.

 

Then it was silent. And silence never could hurt as much as it did then.

 

The life that had made Remington love was taken and Emerson didn’t know could he ever forgive.

 

 

 

\-----------------

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated


End file.
